Title: White Party '99 - Thursday
Author: Paul Plesko
Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: White Party '99
Character/Pairings: Brian/Ben; Brian/other
Category: Drama, POV, episode-related
Rating: NC-17
Date: Nov. 28, 2002
Summary: This story depicts four days in late November of 1999 …the 15th annual celebration…and Brian Kinney's first visit to the party he had heard about for the entire gay portion of his 28 years. It was like a pilgrimage to Mecca…a child's first visit to Disney World…or an itch that cannot be scratched. It was a compulsion, pure and simple, for a man who followed wherever his compulsions led.
Spoilers: Episode 212
Warnings: None
Author Notes: The White Party, which is the high-point of what has become the gay community's Fourth-of-July, Spring Break, Bacchanal, and Mardi Gras all rolled into one, is one of the major AIDS fund raisers in the world. Centered in Miami's hot South Beach area, the celebration essentially takes over the city for a week of daytime Muscle Beach parties, all-night disco/dance parties, and wee-hours sex-orgies. Costumes and nudity are common; outrageous behavior is the norm.
White Party '99 - Thursday
by Paul Plesko
They didn't call it PIT for nothing. "Armpit" is more like it. The Pittsburgh airport always seemed to be partially under construction. And the place was unusually empty this morning; almost everyone had traveled yesterday, on the day BEFORE Thanksgiving, one of the busiest travel days of the year. And it was fairly early…9:30 am. Things would probably grind almost to a halt during the dinner hour…but I didn't mind missing the turkey dinner at Deb's place. She was a fine cook, and Vic made the best pies…but it usually took a week to burn-off the extra calories she forced into "her boys." She didn't simply stuff the turkey; she stuffed the whole family. And today, appearance meant everything. I'd been toning and bulking, tanning and buffing for 4 weeks now…just for the next 4 days…the White Party in Miami. It was legendary. It was hot. It was outrageous. It was the ultimate gay experience…the closest thing to gay-Heaven here on earth.
"Flight 1729…to Miami…is ready for boarding…First Class passengers may board first…"
I had been watching him for awhile…the tall, broad-shouldered guy…perhaps a year or two older…or perhaps it was the glasses that made him look more studious and time-worn…or, perhaps it was the worn tweed sport-coat, comfortably antique, worn over chinos, that gave him a more mature look. I checked to see if there were leather patches on the elbows, but there were none. His body was youthful, however…good posture, strong legs, good teeth. Here I was, cruising someone in the airport before I even left town! This would be quite a weekend.
He didn't move, so he was obviously sitting in the aft compartment, as was I. But when they called my rows, he didn't rise. The asshole was probably in First Class and was just waiting until the last minute to board. I got in-line, showed my boarding pass, and walked quickly down the gangway. My seat was by the window in one of those rows with the escape hatch…not that I was worried about a crash…but because it gave me just enough extra leg-room. The remaining two seats were vacant. As I got comfortable, Mr. Tweed-jacket approached, looked me straight in the eye, checked his ticket, and sank into the row behind me with two other passengers. I could feel my seat sink backwards a bit as he pulled on the seat-back of the aisle seat, settling himself into the confined space.
After the usual delays for people who think carry-on luggage should resemble a camel-caravan, we began to move away from the gate. I heard the stewardess behind me…"Sir, would you like to…"
"Sure," he said, rising and swinging his hulk into the empty aisle seat in my row. "You don't mind, do ya?" he said with an almost mid-western accent.
"No…you're welcome to it," I countered. "I can never fit my width OR my length into those regular seats." I smiled, thinking to myself how I would respond to someone discussing his length and width with ME.
He sucked in his belly as he fastened the seatbelt. A fine waist. "You headed to Miami for business?" he said as he adjusted his carry-on luggage.
"Yes….of sorts," I said, lying about my plans. "And you?"
"Well…it's sorta 'work'…at least I can deduct it as a business expense because it's related to my work. I'm headed to Miami to do some research…and for a few days of vacation. Sorta combining business with pleasure." He smiled provocatively, as if he had a secret. "I'm Ben, by the way…Ben Bruckner."
"And I'm Brian Kinney," I replied.
He smiled that big, warm smile again. "I've actually heard of you," he said with a nod.
"Really? Are you in advertising?" He didn't look familiar…and I thought I knew all the hot ad-execs in Pittsburgh.
"No," he laughed. "I'm an Assistant Professor at Carnegie-Mellon."
"I've heard of it," I said sarcastically. The school "milked" the importance of those two famous names until all of Pittsburgh said "Enough!" All of the possible places we could have met were skittering through my mind…the health club, the Penn State Alumni Association, a Penguins' game, when I used the company's box seats to impress a client…none of these rekindled a memory.
"How about you?" Obviously he didn't know me through my work.
"I work for an advertising agency downtown. You wouldn't have heard of it," I answered.
He laughed and offered his hand. "Well, hello, Brian Kinney. I've been wanting to meet you." We shook…a nice strong handshake that lingered that extra second that made my cock leap. Some guys could dowse for subterranean water…with a stick. But my cock took the place of a dowsing-rod and it twitched when my gay-dar detected some buried hint of queerness in a masculine body.
"Research, you said? In what field?" I was still trying to figure out how he knew ABOUT me without ever meeting me.
"Well," he said, lowering his voice slightly…"I'm in the Gay Studies Program."
"I've never studied it, …but I've been practicing for years," I said with a smile. "I didn't know you could major in it in college, or I woulda graduated with Honors."
He laughed again. "It's a branch of sociology…which was my undergraduate degree…but I got in "on the wave," so to speak. Something I was already interested in suddenly turned into a specialty…with funding and jobs, sorta like Women's Studies… and I've been pretty successful in the last few years while working on my Master's degree in Creative Writing…and I'm only a dissertation away from a Ph.D."
"To me, Ph.D. stands for "Pump His Dick," I said, making the internationally-known sign-language motion for "jacking off."
He nearly fell out of his seat. "There's a lot of THAT involved in getting a Ph.D.," he chuckled, repeating the motion. "I'll have to remember that one. My students will love it! I sometimes tell guys I meet that my name is Ben Dover, just to watch the expression on their faces. From what I've heard, we should give you an honorary degree. My students say your exploits are legendary."
I smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "So I guess we both have the same 'business' in Miami," I said.
"The White Party?"
"The White Party….and all the other fund-raisers and rip-offs that have grown-up around it," I replied. "This is my first time."
"Mine too," he said. "But I've studied and researched it like deciphering the Dead Sea Scrolls. I am SO ready for this!"
"I don't suppose you're staying at the Delano, are you?" That was where I had made my reservations after an equally thorough search of accommodations…and parties.
"No," he replied…. "not on an Assistant Professor's salary. I'm at a small bed-and-breakfast…a gay place, not far off the beach. The Jefferson. The pictures on the web looked OK." He seemed suddenly embarrassed about not being at one of the principal hotels.
We talked during the entire flight to Miami…never taking our eyes off each other. I knew I would fuck him the moment I shook his hand. We discussed the individual parties… one major all-night bash every evening from Wednesday through Saturday…increasing in intensity…until the final party, the original-and-real White Party, to be held at the Vizcaya Museum & Gardens. Ben had tickets for only the final party; he had planned to hit the bars and the free stuff for 3 days. I had purchased the entire package for $500… every event and no-waiting entry. The hotel would cost an additional thousand…and adding a rental car, drugs, booze, lube, and fuck-toys would add another thousand, perhaps. It was my vacation…and I had planned to enjoy myself.
"How about a ride?" I asked at the luggage carousel. "I've rented a Lexus."
He smiled again. "How could I refuse such generosity?"
I traveled lighter than he did…perhaps because this trip was not a fashion parade for me like it was for some of the 4000 visitors. But he didn't strike me as the "glamour-type" either.
After an annoying delay at the rental desk we piled our luggage into the Lexus and headed for the Beach. We crossed the Causeway and turned south on A1a. I drove under the hotel's canopy and stopped.
"This can't be my place…well, no, it couldn't be. You didn't ask how to get there. I was checking-out the scenery and totally forgot to tell you the address. It's…"
"This is my hotel," I said. "I thought my invitation was implied…but, if you'd rather go to your place, we could do that."
"You mean….together?"
"That's the general idea. Take it or leave it." I looked him square in the eye and promised him the night of his life with just a look.
He smiled more slowly this time…like a pleasant buzz from a cocktail…or the heat of a warm shower cascading over firm pecs…or the awareness that his cock was creeping down his pant-leg...the fantasy unfolded before him. "You got it," he nodded.
I checked in while he waited by the potted palms. There was no need to explain to the desk-clerk that Ben was "just visiting." He probably knew what that meant. The bell-boy stepped forward to gather my luggage…and he was attractive, so I let him carry it….about 22, Hispanic, probably Cuban, fine features, and a good body in that tight-fitting 1940s uniform. Ben nodded his approval and stepped behind us, carrying only his small overnight bag, as we walked across the veranda to the poolside bungalow I had reserved. The bellboy looked from one to the other and smiled knowingly. "My name is Luis," he volunteered, "and I can get you anything you want."
After he opened the door, Luis checked the room and returned to the door awaiting his tip. I paid him, but he didn't leave immediately but, instead, continued to chatter about the hotel, its accommodations, the restaurant, the pool, the beach….I was wondering how to get rid of him because I wanted to strip Ben's clothes off and get down to a quick fuck.
"Can I get you anything?" He said with some finality… "drugs?…boys?…" It was White Party Week. The locals knew the score.
Ben spun around in surprise and I smiled at his openness. "Well," I said, "I didn't pack much in the event that my luggage was inspected, so I'm a little short for a 4-day stay. Whatchya got?" He listed his wares like a Baskin-Robbins list of flavors. I made a few selections, asked the price (cheap by Pittsburgh standards), and negotiated the deal.
"I'll be back later," he said as he spun through the door, "with a few surprises." Ben and I looked at each other not knowing what to expect.
"Get over here," I said as the footsteps receded down the hall.
"What have you got in-mind?" he said with a smile as he approached, slipping his glasses onto the desk. He had already removed his jacket…it was too hot for tweed anyway…and I began to unbutton his shirt. He reached for my buckle. We tossed clothing right and left, undressing ourselves because it was quicker. We both rose from bent-over positions to stand face to face, looking at the other in approval and arousal… anticipating this moment…and now it was here. He had a well-developed physique, with chiseled abs and pecs like sirloin roasts. We stepped forward simultaneously, almost colliding, and interlocked arms around torsos and legs between legs as we kissed aggressively in the center of the room. He twisted one of my arms and locked it behind my back with a tight grip…and I responded by hooking my other elbow behind his neck. The physicality was intense; the jockeying for control had begun. It was clear from the beginning that he was a Top who was accustomed to getting his own way…and I was the same. We would either compete…or trade…or one would capitulate.
"You're strong. I like that," he growled. "And aggressive."
"I know what I want…and I go for it. That's all."
"You just beat me to the invitation by a few minutes. I was working up to it since the moment I heard your name. If you hadn't invited me here, I would have invited you to my place. We were meant to fuck," he said, tightening the arm-lock and pushing me backwards. I took two steps back and he was right on top of me. He pushed again. My back hit the wall. He pinned me there with my cock trapped between us; his forearm crossed my chest from shoulder to shoulder and pressed against my throat…a slight movement and he could choke me. I reached for his hair with my free hand, but he ducked and I could only grip his shoulder. His foot suddenly kicked my feet apart; he stepped between my legs and he thrust his groin against mine, sliding our cocks together against hard abs. He bent down and licked a wide swath starting on my chest, and proceeding up the side of my neck, across my lips to my earlobe. "You taste like sex," he growled… "like fear and testosterone. I'm gonna fuck you into the weekend."
I lifted one foot and locked it behind his calf. At the same time, I pushed myself off the wall, diving forward, knocking my chest against his. My foot prevented him from taking a step backward to balance himself, and he staggered away, releasing me in the process. It was my turn to be the aggressor. I followed him, trying to wrap my arms around his chest, but he spun, wrapped an arm under my armpit and up behind my head, and used his strength to force me against the wall again, this time face-first. His groin slammed into my ass and he began to slide his hard cock up and down my ass-crack in a pseudo-fuck. "Now I'm gonna nail you to the wall," he whispered hoarsely in my ear. I swung back with one elbow and caught him in the ribs; he stepped back and gave me just enough room to duck and turn. "You've gotta be faster," I said, taunting him.
Reaching for a headlock again, I spun him around with my arm behind his head and pushed him against the bed. We both lost our balance and fell side-by-side on the coverlet. We wrestled a moment before stopping to kiss again. I tongued the lower margins of his upper teeth, then felt him respond; our tongues dueled for entry, parrying and thrusting in a game of tongue-hockey. Everything was a competition. We broke the kiss simultaneously and rolled over and back, seeking the top position. We were both smiling now, loving the contact, the competition, and the test-of-strength. Too evenly matched for anyone to truly get the upper hand, we struggled for the sheer pleasure of the struggle…hard muscles, hot skin, labored breathing, and occasional gasps of surprise or short-term victory.
"You think you can take me?" he said in a harsh whisper. He reached for my dick as a lever to flip me over. I planted my knee in his groin showing him I could crush his balls with one thrust. He laughed. "You're good."
"I usually get my way," I said. "You must already know that."
"That's what makes you all the more interesting," he countered. We both rose at the same time, locked together in another test of strength, then teetered and fell back onto the bed. As we bounced, we rolled off the edge onto the floor in a pile of arms and legs. My elbow knocked the wind out of him as I landed on his chest. My mouth hit his chin. But rather than take advantage of him, I just started laughing…and we laughed together as we tried to wrestle on the floor. Finally the laughter won. We lay still in each other's arms as I tasted blood from my lip for the first time.
"I know what you need," he said as he disengaged. "I'll be right back." He stepped to his bag, unzipped it, and retrieved a few things. By the time he returned I had returned to the bed in a crouch ready to defend myself. But instead of pouncing, he threw a few lengths of rope on the bed. "I need to tie you down. You'd like that, I'll bet."
"It's happened before," I admitted. "I've done almost everything at least once. Gotta test your limits and expand your boundaries." I gripped the ropes in my fist. "But I bet these would look mighty good around YOUR wrists, even though you usually do the tying."
He smiled and gave me that "I dare you to try" look as he climbed back onto the bed ready for combat. Kneeling, we locked our hands with fingers interwoven; eventually our arms lifted over our heads as we strained to force the other downward onto the bed. In a move I'd learned on the streets, I twisted to the side, then head-butted him in the middle of his chest. It surprised him and I was able to wrestle him onto his back. I pushed him back onto the pillows and straddled his waist with one of the ropes stretched between my outstretched hands. He paused as I looked down at him.
I'd been with guys like him before…so concerned about their partner's pleasure, they take control and guide, even from the bottom sometimes…unsatisfied with their partner's creativity, usually …their minds always working, trying to make it a mind-blowing experience for their partners…working so hard at it that they respond to every move with something more intense and arousing, distracting their partners from participation by the sheer pleasure of it…and, in the end, they get the control they want and take responsibility for the fuck-pleasure. But they're really missing something. They get so involved in the partner's pleasure, they never let themselves totally enjoy it…and they never feel the ultimate freedom…the freedom from responsibility. The irony…a feeling of freedom from the restriction of bondage. Ben was just like this…never letting me pleasure him without trying to out-do me. I decided to teach him a lesson.
I grabbed his right wrist with my right hand, held the rope tightly there, and spun two twists around his wrist with my left hand…then a quick loop to lock it in-place. I pushed it toward the headboard. He resisted at first; his pec hardened as he strained against the pressure. "Oh, I don't think so," he said. I persisted and tightened my knees around his lats to lock him in-place. He pressed against my chest with his other hand as if to push me aside, but I lunged forward and caught the rope on one of the vertical slats. I tied it quickly into place. His tugging on the restraint made his softly-haired pit deepen in the most delightful way. He pressed his palm against my chest again as I leaned back to grab the second piece of rope…the perfect move to make his left wrist more vulnerable to the same type of grab-and-wrap motion. He struggled harder this time… I lunged forward, sliding my ass onto his chest and pinning his upper arms to the mattress with my knees. By putting all my weight on my knees, I could hold him in-place long enough to tie the second rope. I settled back onto his chest, feeling him breathing deeply under my ass. "Now you have no choice," I said as my cock rested along the centerline of his pecs. "You just lie back and let me play." He mumbled something about "getting me later."
"I'll leave your legs free unless you continue to struggle." I said. "Fucking you wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were spread-eagled." He nodded his assent and straightened his legs in acquiescence. I lifted my weight off his torso to look at him spread before me….a splendid torso, to be sure…tense abs, framed by the arch of his rib-cage, rising and falling with his diaphragm; broad pec-slabs separated by a narrow valley; shoulders and triceps straining against the bonds; lats spread like wings.
I bent down to take his nipple in my teeth and I watched him grimace as I ground it between my incisors. His cock, already hard and lying on his belly, lifted it's head and rose to the vertical. I gripped it in my tight fist.
"Now who tastes like fear and testosterone?" I asked innocently.
He smiled broadly again. "Not fear. Anticipation! Your fucks are legendary, I hear. And I've got a ring-side seat." He slumped into submission. "But first, there's something I need to tell you."
I had heard that line before.
"I'm HIV-positive. I probably should have mentioned it even earlier…but there's never a good time. I've known for over a year. If that makes a difference, I'll totally understand."
"Better the Devil-you-know than the Devil-you-don't-know," I said. "But it doesn't change much. I use protection all the time…as if every guy were positive" …and with Hepatitis C and every other STD in the books. Even with less risk for Tops, I fucked enough guys to get a shit-load of disease…so I was always careful. I didn't have a fucking Death-wish. He watched me as I slipped a condom on as I spoke.
I lifted his knees and spread them. Before I knelt between them, I gripped the coverlet and stripped it rapidly from under his body; he lifted to permit its passage…and it fell in a heap at the foot of the queen-sized bed. Then, assuming my position, I gripped his ankles and rested them on my shoulders; I stroked myself to full tumescence. He watched me through spread knees, head lifted in defiance, pecs hard again in-tension with the unyielding fetters. No romance, no candlelight, no music…just two men fucking to completion and satiation. He gripped the ropes to remind himself he was bound. He knew I would not be gentle. That was not our way. My cock was hard now…thick veins protruding through the thin latex…like a second skin. I could feel my pulse in its throbbing. It was time. Reaching for the lube, I squirted some into my palm and spread it onto my shaft, twisting and squeezing. Another squirt…onto my fingers, this time…curved fingers, palm up, sliding under his balls to hook into his hole and spread the shiny fluid into his darkness. He tensed on my fingers…tossed his head from side to side as if warding-off pain, then opened to my advances. His abs tensed as I delved deeper, as if he could try to expel me. I pulled out and leaned forward, bracing my hands on the headboard. "Any last requests?"
"Just fuck me. Show me what you can do, …show me you're man-enough." He arched his back showing me the hills and valleys of his abs. He closed his eyes as if to focus his attention on his hole.
I took him in one, unsympathetic thrust, gripping the fronts of his thighs and rotating my pelvis as I jammed my shoulders into his bent knees and jack-knifed into him. He was tight…and he tried to resist, at first…just the way I like it. But nothing could stop the Kinney-cock when it's in the chute and primed with spunk. He let-out a moan as I sank to my pubes. I left it there for a second while getting my bearings. His asshole felt like a thousand others, but his tense muscles, with pecs trembling in arousal, made him special….fucking a man's-man…no pussy-boy. I rolled back onto my haunches, pulling my cock out so the tip was barely caressed by his out-pouching sphincter…and then drove it home again with a moan of pleasure. His ass was perfect. The backs of his thighs slapped against my abs as I set-up the rhythm; his knees rocked over my shoulders; his heels hit my erector spinae like double drumsticks. I leaned forward to grip the headboard, to pull myself deeper into him, and I repositioned my knees to lift his ass into a position against them.
"Do it….do it" he said in-rhythm with my thrusts. His fingers clenched; his head twisted faster from side to side; his hair matted upon his forehead. Did I have new stamina from being at sea level? I pounded into him unrelentingly. My cock totally left his hole, swayed a moment, they found its way back into the dark tunnel…rearranging the folds of his rectum…pummeling the floor of his peritoneal cavity. It made its own space; it shoved-aside his internal organs; it skewered him on a column of flesh.
"More!" he cried. "Give me MORE!"
My cock found new length and thickness. In…and in….and in again. I leaned forward, rolling his knees toward his chest as I changed my angle of penetration and positioned his ass to match it. As our bodies fit together like Yin and Yang, I buried my face in his throat and took his Adam's Apple in my open mouth, sucking it deep and closing my teeth on his throat. He gasped, afraid that I would rip him. I bit him hard, but didn't break the skin …then release his throat. He turned his head to the side as if to protect his windpipe. I moved my lips to his ear and whispered hoarsely…"You wanted to fuck a legend. Well, here's what you get instead." I rolled him higher, fucking down into him now. My legs, which had straightened, now spread wide to arch over his upturned ass. I lifted him off the bed with my up-curving cock hooking into his prostate until only his shoulders supported him. My pounding cock, which made his spine undulate like a suspended chain, took over then, guiding itself and pulling my body along behind.
His fists opened as he tried to claw me, but he was held back by the firm rope. My fingers traversed down his abs, gripped his nipples, and pinched as if to try to lift him. He moaned, unable to distinguish pain from pleasure. Then gripping his bouncing shaft, I prepared to bring him to a climax…that ultimate feeling of tightness and union. I jacked him with a pounding fist, using his oozing pre-cum as the only lube. He couldn't last long.
But my climax came too early. His tight ass milked me too well; his taut body begged to be filled. Just before I shot, I dropped to my knees again and lowered his body to the mattress; if I came, standing, I probably would have fallen. He could see it in my face; our eyes were locked…the glazed look of focusing one's attention deep inside…to feel the pressure and the surge. He knew I was shooting, because I left my shaft buried full-depth as it throbbed against his interior. I stroked him in unison with my pulsation and I could tell he was near his climax. I clamped my free hand around the base of my cock to keep it hard the few extra minutes it might take to fuck him to an explosion. Faster and harder! His mouth opened in a silent scream as his first jizz-shot arched up to hit the headboard; then gusher after gusher of hot, ropey cum covered his face like Japanese brush-characters. And I came again, from the sheer joy of watching him experience the ultimate release.
"Oh, my God…oh, my God, oh, my GOD!" he gasped as he regained the ability to breathe and speak. "That was so….I…I'm…you're…fucking incredible…"
I relaxed then, letting my body settle onto his…stretching him out…and then reaching up to untie his wrists. Even when they were free, his arms seemed immobilized, too heavy to lift. He lay there. I could almost feel the steam rising from our bodies. I licked the sweat from the margin of his pec, from centerline to the rim of his pit, avoiding any cum-spray; his chest rose and fell in the gasps of recovery. His taste was earthy… musky… manly. I gave a "Mmmmmmm" of approval as I brushed my chin, now rough with stubble, across the ridge of his clavicle. "You bring out the best in me," I said, finally. "It takes a good Top to become a perfect bottom. And vice-versa, I suppose. Even with your wrists tied, you know what feels good to me, and you make it happen."
He lifted his arms and crossed them across my back…the moisture of his pits against my upper arms, trapping them against my sided. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on my face only inches from his. "With my arms in bondage, I could focus on what was happening deep inside me…the friction…the pressure. My whole awareness was focused there at the moment of your climax…and when you didn't soften, it drove me crazy…thinking you could fuck me like that all night. I just let-go then…and let it fly. I'm sorry I made such a mess on your bed. I'll clean it up…" He released his arms as if to rise. I held him down with my weight.
"Not so fast," I said. "We have all night."
"But I thought you had a ticket to that event tonight…What's it called?"
"White Starz…just another disco party…gyrating boys…flipping their meat…looking for tricks. I do that scene all the time back home. This is what I came to Miami for," I said, drawing a line down his chest on the way to his pubes. "And since I had to come all the way to Miami to fuck with you, I don't plan to miss one minute of this night."
He smiled and wrapped me in his arms again. The sun was setting. The reflections from the pool were red dapples on the ceiling and the east windows glowed with the billowing cloud-bank over the ocean. We lay there, gathering our strength for what was to come.
There was a soft knock at the door. It was probably the bellhop, Luis…but I took precautions by grabbing a towel and tucking it around my waist. I was right. But he wasn't alone. "Room Service," he said in a loud voice as he pushed the door open and stepped past me. The other one, younger, but wearing the same uniform, waited to be invited inside. I stepped back and let him enter, then closed the door.
"This is Armando," said Luis. "He's my boyfriend. And I have the stuff you ordered. I brought some extra."
Armando was young…and tall for a Cuban…probably a mulatto, with a coffee-and-cream complexion and black, wavy hair. He had incredibly fine facial features…a real stunner. His tight uniform showed a wonderful bulge in the right pant-leg. He touched it nervously as if to make it go away, but it surged even larger. Armando was carrying two bottles of champagne; Luis had two more. "I didn't order champagne," I said, thinking of the mini-bar we hadn't even opened.
"No…these are free…from the celebrity suite in the penthouse. They have unlimited liquor, and when they don't drink it all, the housekeeping staff looks the other way and lets us take some. I saved these. We'll share." He set down the bottles and began unbuttoning his jacket revealing nothing underneath. "No need for towel. We're all boys here," he said as he dropped his pants. "¡Desnúdese!" he said to Armando, who apparently spoke little English. "The new kid…gotta show him around," he added as he watched the boy begin to strip.
The pop of a champagne cock brought a response from the bedroom. "Who's there, Bri?" I could hear him sit up in bed.
"We've got company," I replied. "It's Desi and Lucy."
"Luis," said Luis. "Loo-Ees…not Loo-SEE. And his name is Armando." Ben heard the response and we laughed together without explaining.
Luis handed two glasses of champagne to Armando and nodded toward the bedroom. He walked slowly with the quality-of-motion like a dancer. Luis saw my eyes following him. "Very nice," I said. "Your very lucky."
"I call him my boyfriend…but I don't own him. I don't even know where he lives. Somewhere up on the North Beach. He runs to work every morning along the beach, bathes in the surf, and changes into his uniform at work. He runs home at night…same way. We sometimes fuck during our break in a vacant room. The maids don't mind if we don't soil the sheets and we make the bed when we're done. No one ever knows." I raised an eyebrow. "He says he's 19," Luis added. "You like him?" He handed me two filled glasses and retrieved a ziplock bag from the small duffel bag.
"He'd be gorgeous…even without the huge dick," I said with a wink. "It's El Gordo." Luis nodded as we entered the bedroom. Armando had stretched out on his belly next to Ben, who was stroking his back from shoulders to ass with a gentle touch, following the soft curves of his body. Luis was quite fine himself…a build like a boxer…short and wiry…a thin moustache that made him look a few years older than his 22 years.
"I brought you the good stuff…for personal use…not the shit like you buy on the beach." He smiled as if he was telling me something about "the trade" that I didn't already know. Every dealer saved the best for himself. "I brought you twice as much as you ordered," he said…. "to keep everyone happy." He unzipped the plastic bag and dropped two of one kind of pill into my palm…and then a third different one. "Mama's little helper," he quipped. He doled out the allocations to the rest and we toasted with champagne to send the pills on their way. Then he climbed into bed on the other side of Ben. "You here," he said, pointing next to him. As I climbed in, he leaned close and tasted my bare cock. "MMMMMMmmm…you smell of sex, but your cock is clean."
"Don't try to figure it out. Just suck it," I said.
He took it into his mouth, still semi-soft, and he sucked until it thickened and lengthened into his throat. Meanwhile, Armando rolled over and began to suck Ben, not to be out-done. He bobbed up and down rapidly leaving a juicy sheen of saliva in his pubes. "Do you do this for all your guests?" I quipped.
He looked up abruptly and smiled, letting my cock slip out of his lips. His dark eyes flashed. "Only for the Princes," he said…"The Princes-of-Passion with hot, thick cocks and cum like cocoa butter. We Cubanos know what to do with fine cocks!" He went back to sucking voraciously and I couldn't disagree.
"Cum versus cocoa butter? Fewer calories, and higher in protein," I thought to myself.
Ben was sitting up now, stroking Armando's body and guiding his movements. "Get me hard," he said. "That boy-ass of yours is calling me." Armando sped up and increased the suction. "God, you're good," Ben gasped between shudders. "Slow down or you'll get me off this way." Armando slid off slowly, licked a few twirls with his tongue around the tip, and smiled in victory. Ben pulled him close and rolled him onto his side, with his backside within range. "Pass me a rubber," he said, reaching in my direction.
I opened the Durex for him, removed it from its foil-pack, and handed it to him. "Onward and inward," I said. While Ben stretched it onto his bright red shaft, I slipped off the bed and walked around to the other side for a better view of the ensuing fuck. The boy's cock lay swollen but still semi-soft on the white sheet…a full ten inches, un-cut, with the moist, rosy head only partially showing. It was the thickest and longest I had ever seen…and on a boy with such slim hips and slender, dancer's legs it looked almost obscene…unless you happen to like that sort of thing. I was fascinated by my close-up view. As Ben pressed into him, the boy's cock crawled slowly toward the edge of the bed…and I met it with my lips. "Salty from his morning swim," I thought.
Ben began fucking him forcefully, rocking his body on one hip, and driving his cock-tip deeper into my lips with each thrust. Armando's fingers snaked through my hair as he gripped my head in-place, afraid I might pull off. "¡Chúpeme!" he murmured…and I knew what he meant.
As Ben pressed into him deeper, he rolled his own ass upward, opening up to Luis's tongue. He moaned from the stimulation and rolled his body to increase the stimulation on both his cock and his ass-crack. "Hot!" said Luis. "This guy has an ass that won't quit…and he tastes like you," he said looking up at me. "Now I KNOW you fucked him."
"Caught….red-shafted," I joked.
"Then I want him too," said Luis.
"Use a condom. You should. I did."
Luis reached for the pile on the nightstand. "You are ready for White Party Week," he grinned, selecting one. "You should be so lucky to fill all these." He slipped it on quickly and dove for Ben's hole. Ben was so busy, he barely noticed. Luis was fucking him double-time compared to Ben's long, slow strokes…but I didn't mind. The boy's cock slid lusciously along my tongue, leaving a snail-trail of precum. No one wanted it to end, so everyone kept the perfect pace with a sufficient degree of stimulation to keep everyone at-the-peak.
Luis broke the spell. "Let me have him…and you fuck ME," he suggested. As the two traded places, Armando reached back lazily and stripped the condom off Luis's shaft; he wanted it the usual way. The penetrations began…first Luis into Armando…and then Ben into Luis.
"Come on…" said Ben. "You're next." I released the monster-cock from my lips…a full 2-1/2 inches in diameter and Lord-knows how long…and arose from the floor to take my place behind Ben. Armando rolled to his knees in a crouch; Luis crouched over him; Ben knelt. With a new condom applied, I guided my shaft into him. He let me enter so easily this time…perhaps because he was preoccupied with the rhythmic motions of his own fucking. It took a few seconds to get the rhythm right. My thrust pushed Ben into Luis…who, in turn, pressed forward into Armando…and with each press forward, an ass slid partially off an invading cock, which retreated to prepare for another plunge. The moans were louder then…as strong arms squeezed each slim waist for better leverage. The mattress rolled beneath us and contributed to the rhythmic quality. We fucked like a four-cylinder engine with pistons thrusting.
Luis came first; I could hear the boy underneath him moaning as Luis slammed into him the final time and filled him with the fluid denied to the rest of us. Ben came next, almost simultaneously with Armando who shot without stimulation …other than his cock dragging against the sheet. Ben's ass clamping down on my thrusts forced me to a climax…and we all froze in-situ like a throbbing mass of gelatin. The weight of three bodies resting on his back finally fatigued Armando's arms. He collapsed onto the bed as each man, in-turn, felt the impact of more weight driving cocks into asses. Armando got the full effect. We all groaned simultaneously…which made us laugh…a motion that jiggled cocks in asses in a most delightful way. We lay in a heaping pile of cock-and-ass for many minutes, unable or unwilling to withdraw.
Finally we disconnected and lay in the darkness, teasing and stimulating each other in a vain attempt to re-start a four-way. We played like otters swimming in a poll of sheets and smooth male skin…bobbing, licking, kissing, and biting…not knowing whom we were stroking, except for the moment I grabbed the enormous cock and felt his lips lock on mine.
"¡El dios!" Luis muttered. "We're late. We'd better get back or the boss will have our asses."
"That's not always a bad thing," Ben joked as he reached for the lamp.
The two dressed hurriedly, grabbing clothes from the pile in the living room and trading a few times to find the correct sizes. "Enjoy your stay," Luis added as they opened the door. "We have!"
Ben and I settle back into the bed. It was eight o'clock and we had had no dinner. "We had room-service, but no food! Do you want something to eat?" I asked.
"I sure do," he said as he gripped my cock and pulled me toward him. "I suppose I could say 'I've had my fill,' but the night is young."
"And so was Armando," I said, remembering the size, length, thickness, and taste.
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